


St. Christopher's Lie

by Marie Blackpool (LynnC)



Category: Wiseguy
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-02
Updated: 2012-01-02
Packaged: 2017-10-28 18:46:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/311025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LynnC/pseuds/Marie%20Blackpool
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vinnie copes with a jealous Sonny, in a way he didn't expect.  It makes him happier than he has any right to be while he's undercover.</p>
            </blockquote>





	St. Christopher's Lie

**Author's Note:**

> Originally appeared in McPikus Interruptus 3.

"It was Harry that tipped me off to Angelo, so it sure as hell wasn't Mahoney doing the Serrera hit. I know it wasn't Sonny, cause he was helping me find Angelo." Vinnie frowned in irritation at the grimy alley walls around them. "Patrice is a nutcase, I thought he really was gonna shoot Sonny when he had that gun on him in the bowling alley. He's fucking Sonny over, even if it was Royce that actually arranged it."

"Well, it would've done us a favor if he had shot Steelgrave, wouldn't it. Damn," Frank muttered, and bent over to squint at the gravel.

"What're you doing?"

"Dropped my St. Christopher's medal. It couldn't be much darker in this alley, could it." Frank was poking around under Vinnie's feet; he pushed Vinnie back when Vinnie's shadow, cast by the dim bulb outside Chen's back door, fell across the bit of pavement he was interested in.

"Your WHAT?" Vinnie moved obediently with Frank's tug and cast a cursory look around at the cigarette stubs and crumpled newspapers littering the ground.

"Yeah, yeah. My wife gave it to me and I keep forgetting I've got it in this jacket pocket. I thought it was a quarter and almost gave it to a bum last week." Frank froze suddenly, put a hand on Vinnie's thigh, and looked up to catch his eye.

"What?" Vinnie whispered.

"Shhh." Then Vince heard it too: a low moaning, coming from around the garbage dumpster a few feet away. Vinnie detached himself from Frank's hold and stepped back gingerly in the shadows until he could see around the edge of the dumpster. A man, back against the wall, biting his hand, coat flung open, and another man on his knees in front of him, sucking him off noisily. Vinnie was about to tiptoe back to Frank, who even on his knees looked poised for action, when he caught sight of more activity at the entrance to the alley. Two men strolling arm in arm stopped, leaned against the wall of the drugstore in the darkness, and melded their bodies together, with a sigh Vinnie could hear from as far away as he was. Vinnie skulked back to Frank's side and shook his head in bemusement.

"You picked a winner here, Frank. Looks like we've found the new hotspot for men on the prowl."

"Whaddayou mean," Frank snapped petulantly. "I'm not in the mood for riddles."

"Let's just say if you don't kiss me goodbye we'll stand out in this crowd."

"You're pulling my leg." Frank didn't sound convinced. "It was okay last time we were here. Ah." He pocketed the little silver pin and clambered to his feet.

"Maybe we were just too wrapped up in each other to notice the audience. We better move back to the amusement park next time."

"Steelgrave is getting to you, Vince. You're going all soft and mushy."

"And you're complaining?" Vinnie glanced down the alley impatiently. Would these guys ever finish and let them get out of there? They all seemed to be frantically trying to climax with no success. It was damned distracting.

"Naw, I'm just worrying a little. It's my job to worry about you. He can't keep his hands off you, can he." Frank watched his reaction closely.

"Yeah, Sonny's an affectionate guy. I hadn't thought about it quite that way, now you mention it." Vinnie recalled all those little pats and feinted punches and smiled at the thought of Sonny's demonstrative fondness for him. It was one of the things that had endeared him to the man immediately, despite his disgust at Sonny's choice of career. But there was obviously nothing more than affection behind Sonny's touching; Frank was just baiting him.

"Well, from where I sit it looks pretty sweet. Not as sweet at those guys down there," Frank narrowed his eyes towards the alley entrance, "but close."

"You're just bored, Frank. More dates like this is what you need, eh," Vinnie said with a smirk, one eye on the dumpster and one on Frank's predictable grimace.

"Oh good, they're done. Whaddayou say we sneak out through Chen's?" Frank suggested.

"Why, Frank, you afraid of being picked up by the locals for hustling?" Vinnie didn't try to contain his snigger.

"Come on, Vince, you know on slow nights they cruise this sort of spot like sharks. Elias would love it if we ended up in the clink.  _Especially_ for hustling."

"Yeah, alright, Chen's it is. But only if you give me that kiss first."

"Fuck you, Terranova."

"Okay," Vinnie said amiably, and waited; when Frank started to aim a kick he took off for the restaurant door. They slipped past the cook who was buried in a skin mag, and Vinnie took a turn in the gents' while Frank made good his escape from the restaurant. When he finally ducked out of the place himself he took a closer look at the street traffic than he had previously---a few more men in pairs, making more eye contact with each other than strictly necessary. And there was a bar on the corner with pink decor. He found himself grinning hugely as he imagined Frank hightailing it out of there, trying to look macho. He got a few interested looks himself. Frank probably would've been better off leaving with him, he concluded.

Next morning Vinnie was occupied with a meet Sonny had arranged with his "businessmen": Sharpy Jones who ran the numbers guys, Lefty Palermo who laundered cash, Paulie Vario who counterfeited and ran pizza joints, Gino Spinelli who had something to do with hot cars and stereos. It was more of a social get-together than anything else, a greasing of the wheels over a champagne brunch with a lot of jockeying for favor and testing of mettle that Vinnie could see was the rule of the land here. He thought he did an okay job of convincing them that he was Sonny's man first and his own man second, but who could tell? They shook hands with him when they parted and Vinnie was pleased to find his watch still on his wrist and that his pocket change hadn't disappeared when he got out of there.

As soon as he stepped out of the elevator on Sonny's floor he knew there was something weird in the air. The looks he got from the secretaries were a little longer and more pointed than usual, maybe even  _disappointed_ , and some of Sonny's toady accountants and paper pushers avoided his gaze and scuttled away as he crossed their paths. The back of his neck was prickling when he got to Sonny's office. Royce was inside, trying to sneak a look at some papers on Sonny's desk; he jumped away when Vinnie entered and had the bad taste not to look guilty at all when he saw who it was.

"Ah, Terranova," he said plummily. He bounced on his toes, gave Vinnie a long look up and down. Vinnie found himself straightening his suit coat self-consciously before he got a grip on himself.

"Where's Sonny?" Vinnie asked, a little vexed.

Royce smiled, wandered over to him, and circled him like a malevolant myopic buzzard. "Just getting me some records I asked for," he murmured in Vinnie's ear. Vinnie's skin was crawling counterclockwise to Royce's clockwise, and his feet wanted to kick Sid in the shins, requiring strict discipline. Fantastically, he felt a large square hand snake under his jacket, settle on his ass, and pinch him hard. He yelped in surprise and pirouetted, broadcasting shocked disgust.

Sonny picked that moment to materialize in the door, looking tired and unhappy. He took in the scene with a sigh and said, "Kill him or make a date with him, Vinnie, but do it fast, I got things to do here." He slapped a file on the desk, sat down, swiveled to stare moodily at the skyline outside.

"What the fuck is going on here?" Vinnie sputtered when he got his vocal cords working again. He bounced a glare from Sonny to Royce and back again. Royce was still smirking, although he had stepped well out of range of Vinnie's fists; Sonny's jaw jutted at a grim angle and he was tapping his ring on the arm of the chair. Royce sidled up to the desk and picked up the file.

"Sid, if you wanna keep your dentures you better stay away from me," Vinnie said. Royce simpered at him and exited with a speaking look in Sonny's direction. Vinnie could see Sonny's eyes flicker in the reflection on the glass. "Hey, what's gotten into everyone, Sonny?" Sonny fiddled with his ring some more, tapped his foot impatiently, seemed to reach a decision, and turned around to eye Vinnie with disapproval. He pushed an envelope across the desk and waited while Vinnie examined the contents. A grainy photo: of Vinnie standing in a filthy dark alley, with a man squatting in front of him, arm braced on his thigh, face obscured by shadows at groin-level.  _One for Frank's scrapbook, for sure,_ said a sneaky little voice in Vinnie's head. It was suggestive, to say the least. Then Vinnie felt the blood drain from his face: whoever had taken the snap might have heard something of their meet, or made Frank as OCB. He fought down his momentary panic by convincing himself that if whoever had photographed them had known it was a Fed he was talking to and passed that info on to Sonny, Sonny would've whacked him before his breakfast with the neighborhood boys.

After clearing his throat several times, he looked up to find Sonny inspecting his reaction with a frown. "What's the point, Sonny?" he asked.

"What's the point?  _What's the point >_?" Sonny erupted from his chair and paced around the floor frenetically. "How come I get handed this shit with my morning paper, Vinnie? How come I don't know I've hired a fairy?"

Vinnie flushed. "Sonny, I don't---" He broke off, not sure how to get himself out of this one. He'd just have to ride it out, what else could he do? "Listen, Sonny, I don't do this sort of thing that often."  _Like, never._

"Yeah, well, you just had the urge to do it last night and really embarrass me?" Sonny stopped pacing and eyed him directly. Vinnie felt his nerve melt, confronted with Sonny's outrage.

He knew his face was flaming as he said, "Hey, I wasn't trying to embarrass you. I promise you I never thought of you the whole time."

This was the wrong approach. Sonny's nostrils flared, his nose stabbed accusatorily at Vinnie. "You should be thinking of me all the time, Vinnie! You are never alone, when you work for me. You go fuck guys in alleys and you fuck with me, man!"

"Come on, Sonny. It's not like this is a big deal, is it?" Vinnie tried to think up some soothing lies, smothering his urge to giggle. "When I was in the joint I got kind of used to having guys suck me, but it's not like I don't like women or can't do without it, you know?" He tugged at his hair, tried to avoid the piercing dissection of Sonny's gaze.

"Okay, you do without it from now on. I don't like getting this kind of news over my espresso--sets me off on the wrong foot for the whole day." Sonny appeared to be somewhat calmer. "And I especially don't like people like Royce knowing about your dirty laundry, it makes me feel stupid. I want to know first."

"How'd Royce see this?"

"He gave it to me." Sonny slammed it down on his desk and scowled at Vinnie.

"He what? Was he hanging out in that alley too?" Vinnie tried to recall if any of those guys last night had been moaning like Royce. Not that he would recognize sexual ecstasy in Royce's voice, thank Christ.

"I don't know. Maybe one of Patrice's boys was there. Who knows. Maybe they were tailing you, trying to get the goods on you. Like this, man." He flicked at the picture with a disdainful forefinger.

"That really irritates me, Sonny. If I catch any of those jokers on my tail I'm going to take them out."

"I'd expect you to." Sonny looked at him askance, considering. "How'd it go with the meeting this morning?"

Vinnie allowed himself to relax a bit. "Okay, I think. Paulie told us about you and him stealing TVs from the police department when you were 13. We had a good chat."

Sonny smiled fractionally, and his expression softened. "Yeah, me and Paulie were real terrors when we were kids. But don't believe everything he says, huh? Listen, Vinnie, there's a society do tonight for charity, at the Plaza Hotel. I want you to come with me. Wear your tux."

Vinnie let out a silent breath of relief: he wasn't being blacklisted for this little indiscretion. "What time you want me?"

"Eight." Sonny looked up as Vinnie started to go. "Vinnie."

"Yeah?"

"Let's see if we can manage not to get caught in any incriminating photos, huh?"

"You and me, Sonny? Shouldn't be too hard," Vinnie chuckled. Sonny smiled beatifically for the hypothetical camera.

************

"Vinnie! Get in here!" Sonny sounded even more imperial than usual.

Vinnie put the last swipe of the comb through his hair and abandonned the bathroom mirror. He found Sonny in front of the mirror in the bar trying to fix a crumpled bowtie at his neck.

"Yeah, Sonny?"

"Come 'ere." Sonny was cursing under his breath with great imagination; it never failed to surprise Vinnie how colorful Sonny's fantasy life was. He finished an elaborate malediction concerning tailors and Vinnie saw it coming: "Get this thing on me, will you." Sonny dropped his hands with a flourish and held his chin up, a baleful eye on the ceiling.

Vinnie's tie was perfect. "Sure, Sonny, we'll get you kitted out in a sec." He wrestled with Sonny's tie, but it was uncooperative. Sonny patiently withstood being pulled by the collar right and left. Finally Vinnie gave up on the knot as it was and said, "Here, let me undo it and start from scratch, okay." Sonny nodded like a chastened child, tolerating Vinnie's grip at his throat with touching trust. Vinnie felt Sonny's body heat from his fingers, which grazed Sonny's neck and collarbone, all the way down to his elbows. It felt strange to be so aware of another man's body; what had come over him? Frank's comment about Sonny's affectionate pawing was coming home maybe, or that photo was working some kind of voodoo spell? It was true that he'd occasionally felt attraction to other men, but it had never been embarrassing the way this situation threatened to become, if he couldn't get a grip on his hormones. He was overtaken by a runaway fantasy of sliding his fingers along Sonny's collarbone, inside his shirt, down his soft furred chest, over the the flat rosy nipples....

He glanced up self-consciously to see Sonny surveying him thoughtfully. He smiled and forced himself back to what he was supposed to be doing. When he had the tie fixed his hands lingered over straightening it, prolonging the contact.

"There you are," he said huskily, finally stepping back.

"Vinnie," Sonny said quietly.

Fighting sudden acute shyness, Vinnie met his eye with difficulty. "Yeah, Sonny."

"Thanks." Sonny held his gaze a moment longer, and then swung up his jacket and wrapped himself in it. "Let's go."

They rode to the party in silence, Sonny staring morosely out of the window at the wet streets passing, Vinnie feeling uncomfortable at the undercurrent of tension in the car and hyperaware of Sonny's physical presence across from him. Sonny seemed to be taking the "news" about Vinnie's sexual tastes rather hard. Vinnie wanted to find whoever had taken that damned photo and hang him up by his dick... And then he'd worry about his own out-of-control imagination. He hadn't had the consciousness of another man's appeal hit him so viscerally in years; there had been one or two teachers in high school and college that caused his groin to jolt when they smiled at him or put a companionable arm around his shoulders.... Of course there had been more than enough women to keep him distracted, so he'd never acted on any of the peculiar yearnings he felt. In the joint, he had been too repulsed initially by the power politics, and then by the eternity he spent trapped between Curly Joe and a wall, to have any desire to explore sexual arrangements with men.

He shot a furtive look at Sonny, and wondered if Sonny were just another of these older men his subconscious took a fancy to; those greying temples were handsome, after all. He dismissed that thought almost immediately: Sonny seemed unlikely as a paternal figure. The image of Sonny dandling him on his knee took on a lewd slant when he tried it out. There was definitely something else going on here, something to do with Sonny's vibrant humor and mercurial energy and maybe even that impressive left hook.

He'd have to get himself under control, though, no more fantasizing. The job was dangerous enough without Sonny thinking he was after his ass. Vinnie concluded, as they pulled up at the hotel, that his problem did have its amusing side. It had surfaced because of that silly photo of him and Frank. Not that Vinnie had the least desire to share this joke with Frank, though.

The dinner was a glittering, hollow affair crowded with politicians and movie stars and businessmen. Sonny and Vinnie bumped shoulders, jostled arms, and apologized to people they didn't know socially in the press at the champagne bar, before finally making their table for a respite and some food. Too many speeches limped past during the hors d'oeuvres, which Sonny rolled his eyes over. The rest of their table, some no-personality investment bankers from midtown, shovelled their meal down and stolidly ignored the speakers as well as Vinnie and Sonny and everyone else in the room.

After an hour of it, Sonny leaned into Vinnie's ear. "They're starting to get to me," he muttered with a glance across the flower arrangement at the bankers. "I'm gonna go talk to Mrs. Devita over there, her husband is a very gracious donor at the casino." He clapped Vinnie on the shoulder as he headed off in the crowd. Vinnie sighed, and picked at his chicken cacciatore.

"Vincenzo." He looked up to find Paul Patrice smiling down at him like a cat with a stuffed bird in his mouth.

"Well, Mr. Patrice, fancy meeting you here." He stood and shook hands.

"It's good to see you again, Vincenzo. Please, let's sit." Pat took Sonny's seat, dismissed the other guys at the table from consideration immediately. Vinnie shrugged and sat again. Over Patrice's shoulder he caught a glimpse of Pat's goons Simonetti and Feregamo looking out of place as they obtrusively mingled but kept their eye on their boss.

"I didn't notice you here earlier, did you time your arrival to miss those speeches?" Vinnie asked.

Pat nodded with a faint grin. "Fashionably late as always. I'm a busy man. As, of course," he spread his hands, "are you and Sonny."

"Yeah, Sonny's a busy guy. He's especially busy protecting his business interests, which are also yours, I gather." Vinnie flagged over a waiter to get Pat a drink.

"I'm glad to hear that he's so concerned about my financial concerns in Atlantic City. Sonny's a good friend." Pat took a glass from the waiter and held it up. "A toast, Vince."

Vinnie picked up his own glass.

"To concerns both business and pleasure." They clinked and sipped.

Vinnie and the Cat measured each other---for what, Vinnie wasn't sure. Patrice moved his chair a little closer to Vinnie's with a conspiratorial smile. "Is Sonny keeping you happy?" he asked.

"Yes, he treats me real good." Vinnie leaned back and tried to look relaxed and well-fed, without appearing complacent.

"You have improved the appearance of his staff immeasurably, Vincenzo." Patrice toyed with the stem of his wine glass; over his shoulder, Vinnie spotted Sonny with his arm around some woman's fur coat, pretending to nod at her, his complete attention on Vinnie and Patrice.

"Well thank you very much." What the fuck could one say to that?

"Black tie becomes you."

Vinnie didn't need to hear this sentiment again from Patrice, and lost his patience. "Mr. Patrice, you must have something on your mind."

Patrice looked slightly discomfited. "I do, Vince. But what I have to say to you should be discussed in privacy. Would you join me for dinner this week, at Chez Madeleine?"

Vinnie hesitated. On the one hand he ought to get to the bottom of Patrice's weird approach, on the other hand Sonny would think it pretty ripe of him to make dates with the Cat behind his back... but then, if he told Sonny, maybe Sonny would be just as curious to know what was on Pat's mind as he was. Frank would tell him to go for it, of course. Vinnie felt pretty confident now that it had been Patrice's guys in that alley taking photos.

"I don't know, Mr. Patrice," he said finally. "Sonny doesn't let me out at night much."

Patrice put the glass down on the table and put his hand over Vinnie's. Vinnie froze; Sonny was making a beeline for the table, scowl-line sunk in his brow and mouth pursed for a fight.

"This is personal, Vincenzo, and doesn't need to concern Sonny. Sonny couldn't appreciate a matter of this delicacy. What I'm trying to say is that I'd like to get to know you a little better." Pat squeezed Vinnie's hand significantly.

Vinnie couldn't speak past an acute paralysis. Sonny, arriving at Patrice's shoulder, did it for him. "Hey, Patty, I didn't see you come in. You made fast work of finding my man Vinnie, huh? Nice of you to keep him entertained for me while I handled business elsewhere."

Patrice held Vinnie's eyes a little longer, then patted his hand. "Yes," he purred, without looking at Sonny, "we were just having a nice talk. Vinnie and I have a few things in common."

Vinnie felt his eyebrows climb at the audacity of the insinuation. Sonny was vibrating like he was going to explode. Some of the no-personalities were shifting away from the table now.

"It's all right, Sonny, Mr. Patrice was being very charming," Vinnie said. "But he was just going."

"Oh, too bad." Sonny didn't look sorry. "See you sometime for a more sociable chat, Pat."

Patrice stood up and smiled at Sonny. "Simonetti," he said, and the man appeared at his shoulder.  _Heel, boy,_  Vinnie thought. "Sure, Sonny, another time." As they strode regally into the crowd, Simonetti shot Vinnie a poisonous look, and Vinnie started to laugh.

"It's a fucking soap opera," Vinnie said.

Sonny watched them disappear and then jerked his head at Vinnie. "We're going now. I've had enough."

At the coat check, Vinnie jabbed Sonny in the arm and snickered. "`Thanks for entertaining him.' Geez, Sonny, you were pushing it there."

Sonny didn't smile. "I don't like people poaching on my turf. Here, keep the change, doll."

In the limo, Vinnie refrained from further jokes; Sonny had a "don't mess with me" expression on as he reclined and watched the traffic lights change. Vinnie felt residual amusement at Patrice's boldness, but Sonny's touchiness was deflating. Sonny ignored him until they were speeding down South Avenue, and then he turned to examine Vinnie through narrowed eyes.

"What did Pat want?"

"I don't know. He gave me some bullshit line about wanting to get to know me better, and asked me if you were keeping me happy."

Sonny reacted as Vinnie knew he would, with a flare of the nostrils and a roll of his head: "Oho, so Patty put the moves on you. That kind of pisses me off. He thinks I'm weak enough that I got guys at my right hand who are going over to him at the twitch of a whisker? What'd you say to him, anyway? You tell him where he can stow that crap?"

Vinnie grinned. He counted on Sonny to see this as funny too, if he could get it past the guy's insecurity about Patrice waiting to pounce on his crooked empire. "I don't think it was just him testing my loyalty, somehow. I think it had something to do with these nasty rumors about me that Sid started this morning."

Sonny's eyes widened, and he didn't smile. "What? You mean to say Pat the Cat made a  _pass_  at you?"

"Yeah. It felt like it, anyway, when he groped my hand. Even invited me to dinner at a swanky restaurant."

"You sure it wasn't just a wise play?"

"Maybe that too, but it was definitely more friendly than I would've expected if he were just testing me."

Sonny looked more insecure, suddenly, rather than less. He fiddled with his cuffs. With a flash of lightning temper, he demanded, "What is it with everyone around here? Sid Royce sprouts wings and a tutu in my office today, Patty turns out to be Tinkerbell's sister, and my right hand man is suddenly on everyone's dessert tray---and he loves it. Ain't that right, Vinnie?" Sonny glared at him.

Vinnie sighed. "Come on, Sonny, I told him you treat me real good and don't let me out at night much. He can think what he wants from that."

"Am I the only normal, red-blooded man left in Jersey?" Sonny ranted, apparently not listening. He pounded on the arm rest with a balled fist. "You're not gonna wear a dress to the office anytime soon, I hope. We got a standard to maintain, even if we are an equal opportunity employer. I'm being as understanding as I can be, since I consider you a friend, but don't forget you work for me, and keep the fuck out of Patrice's shorts."

Vinnie smarted, but managed an artificial cocky smirk. "All I want to know about Patrice's underwear is whether it's pressed like the rest of his suit, and I'd prefer if he just told me. Don't worry about your machismo suffering, Sonny---Patrice made it pretty clear that he considers you incapable of understanding this stuff."

Sonny's anger seemed to abate and was replaced by an expression of mild confusion. He looked at Vinnie sharply, out the window at the rain, and then back over again. He twitched his shoulder, settled back against the seat, finally decided on the puddles outside. "Good. That's right. Yeah."

The rest of the drive passed in virtual silence, with Vinnie wanting to say something more comforting, worried at how Sonny had reacted to Pat's attention. But what else was there to say? Sonny studied him covertly once or twice, and when Vinnie tried to catch his eye, he became intensely interested in the hookers on 34th Street. He smacked his lips and nudged Vinnie with his knee; "Hey, that one, man," he muttered, and kissed at her out the window. When Vinnie didn't react, he did a doubletake and Vinnie could see him thinking, "Oh yeah, this guy likes boys." Vinnie relented and said firmly, "Yeah, she's a looker."

At the Royal Diamond, Vinnie got out and looked back to see Sonny sitting in the limo playing with his watch band. "You coming, Sonny?"

"No," Sonny said, "I think I'm gonna go look for company tonight, I don't want to be alone. Good night, Vinnie." He pulled the door closed on himself and motioned for the driver to take off. Vinnie watched as the car passed out of the circle and headed back the way they had come, surprised to feel so abandonned.

************

Vinnie woke knowing he wasn't alone, reaching for his gun on the bedside table.

"Hey, relax," a quiet voice said at the foot of the bed. Vinnie sat up, looking blindly around in the dark, and hit the light. It was Sonny, still in his tux, blinking fatigued red eyes at the sudden illumination.

"Man, Sonny, what time is it? You scared me to death." The clock said 3 a.m., when Sonny didn't answer. Vinnie rubbed sleep out of his face---he'd been having some nightmare about getting raped in the joint again, he could tell from the way his balls were shivering between his legs.

Sonny regarded him for a long moment. He felt exposed, despite the T-shirt he had on and the covers up to his waist. Sonny had a way of seeing through things, when he wanted to. And he looked like he wanted to.

Vinnie tried again. "What's up? I thought you had company tonight."

Sonny straightened his rumpled jacket with a little jerk. "I changed my mind. I thought I'd come and talk to you instead."

"At  _3 a.m._? It couldn't wait till morning?"

Sonny shook his head. "Nah, it couldn't wait till morning. I been thinking, Vinnie. I want you to be happy."

"I'm happy, Sonny, I'm happy! I'll be even happier after a good night's sleep. I don't like getting woken up in the middle of the night."

"Yeah, you looked like you were having a good dream."

No glitter of humor showed in Sonny's dark eyes in the light from the bedside lamp. Vinnie shuddered. "I wasn't, in fact, so maybe I should be glad you woke me up. What's on your mind, Sonny."

Sonny paced a few lengths of the end of the bed, and then sat down on the edge; Vinnie pulled his knees up to get his feet out of the way. He waited while Sonny visibly got his nerve together. It felt strangely intimate having Sonny sitting on his bed, in the middle of the night---even if Sonny were still in that formal dinner outfit.

Sonny stared at his knees and murmured, "I want you to be happy with me, and not to fool around with Patty."

"You know I won't do that. Come on, Sonny." Vinnie swallowed an urge to chuckle at Sonny's fear, which was so ridiculous.

"I know how crazy a guy can get with---urges. If you like being with guys, you can't just turn that off. I can't say I know exactly what it's like, but I know what desire does to a man."

Vinnie felt his face heat up. "Sonny, it's not like that. Like I said, I can keep it under control." Despite the knowledge that he had never had  _any_ problems keeping himself under control before, and didn't plan to have any problems now or in the future, Vinnie was feeling peculiarly embarrassed, with Sonny looking at him through those probing eyes. He had nothing to feel embarrassed about, he told himself firmly.

Sonny planted a hesitant hand on Vinnie's foot, holding him through the blanket too lightly for him to feel the heat from the grip. Something about the movement, or the bloodshot eyes---Vinnie realized Sonny had been drinking a lot since the party, but not enough to feel trouble-free, obviously. "Vince, if you can keep it under control, what do you need to go to alleys on the southside for? I don't want you doing that stuff anymore. You could pick up all kind of diseases that way."

"Yeah, Sid Royce, for one." Vinnie pulled his foot out of Sonny's distracting hold and leaned forward to grasp his shoulder, galvanized by a need to soothe Sonny's startling possessiveness. "I told you I wouldn't do it anymore and I meant it, Sonny. You want me to swear on my mother's bible or something?"

Sonny reached for Vinnie as well and, with a warm steady hand, cupped him at the nape of the neck. "What good does that do if you really want to do this stuff? Tell me this, Vinnie---do you want to do it with me?"

Vinnie felt dizzy suddenly; he couldn't see a neat escape. He let go and leaned back, out of Sonny's strangely delicious grasp; Sonny's hand landed on his knee and lingered there.

After clearing his throat: "Sonny, what can I say to you? If I say no, you feel relieved and probably rejected, if I say yes, you feel gratified but dirty, right? Plus, you shoot me if I look at you funny tomorrow."

"No, I wouldn't do that," Sonny said softly. "I really like you, Vinnie. I know the suits and this apartment and the cash don't mean much to you, can't figure what's wrong with your values, man," he laughed shortly. "Maybe this stuff matters to you more, and here you are living a lie, and being something you're not all the time. Maybe you really would be happier if you didn't have to pretend. This is what I've been thinking all night, Vinnie. Tell me what YOU'VE been thinking."

Vinnie twitched internally: yes, he was living a lie, it was a whopper, and he would be  _much_  happier without it. For a mad moment he considered telling Sonny,  _Yeah,_ _I'm really a Fed, you've got your paw on the man who's supposed to_ _take you down, pal,_  and he felt sick with self-disgust at his betrayer's role. Sonny's concern about his mental well-being would be dust in a microsecond if Vinnie confessed the big one, and Vinnie would be left to repent in a hole by the turnpike. The irony in the present situation was suddenly painful. He shook his head. "If I'm living any lies here, I'm happy with them," he said, hoping not to gag on the words. "I couldn't say the same about being with Patrice, even if he were sucking me off every night, Sonny. I'd be more likely to shoot at him if he woke me up in the middle of the night, than to let him sit on my bed and talk to me. And touch me," he added, focusing on Sonny's hand.

Sonny gripped his knee harder. "Okay, Vinnie, I think you answered my question. You do want me."

"What? I didn't say that!"

"Oh, come on, no more bullshit. I want to know the truth here. Who knows, maybe we'll both be happier." Sonny stroked rhythmically, watching his own motion up and down the raised leg.

Vinnie's thigh muscle froze, in a futile attempt to prevent the sensation from travelling up the nerves to his groin and tweaking a response. "I really like you, Sonny," Vinnie said desperately, as the warm sensation of arousal grew in him. "But I don't want anything to change between us. I can't see this working out."

"Why not? Because I like women? You said you do too. Maybe I just don't know how much I like men," Sonny said aggressively. He reached for the sheet and pulled. Vinnie caught his wrist and held it hard.

"Wait, Sonny. Don't do this." Vinnie felt like he were drowning in something sweet.

"Why not? If I want to and you want to?" Sonny clenched his fist and Vinnie released him. Sonny unbuttoned his jacket and tossed it on the chair by the bed, plucked off his tie and tossed it over his shoulder. "Thanks for that, by the way. I didn't really need the help, but it was nice getting it." He smiled craftily, and his sharp eyes captured Vinnie's reaction while he leisurely unbuttoned his shirt.

"You mean you were just fooling around with me?" Vinnie's voice broke as his cock stirred at the memory, despite his shock. He clutched the sheet to himself like a bulletproof vest.

"I was just checking you out. What's the matter? You look tense." Sonny tossed the shirt on the bed too, and untucked his undershirt.

"No kidding."

"Relax. Just tell me what you want me to do to you." The undershirt followed the other items, then the belt came off, and Vinnie watched with frozen fascination as the zip came down on the pants. Maybe, he thought, maybe he wouldn't be able to hold an erection, once they got down to it, and they could just forget about this humiliating little episode... but his body was thrilling to the sight of Sonny sitting down too near him, peeling himself out of the legs of his pants, bent over on the edge of the bed, naked back showing off firm muscle tone with every movement.

Vinnie shook himself, and stammered, "I don't want you to do anything to me."

"I think you're lying, Vincent." Sonny swiveled and leaned over him, planting a fist on the other side of Vinnie's hips to prop himself up. Vinnie felt trapped, which he definitely was. He shrank under Sonny's probing gaze.

"Listen, Sonny," he said hoarsely, "I've never done this with anyone I like. I don't know if I can. It's making me crazy thinking about it." Crazy with desire and dread. He remembered Fatso Gorrigan pawing him in the showers, and Curly Joe ramming it home against the wall of the workroom. He'd taken a year off Curly's life with the pounding he'd given him afterwards, but he still had a feeling of nausea when he thought about being touched down there. He even kept women away from his ass.

"Oh, it's like that, huh," Sonny said huskily. "Just strangers you meet in bars. Now I think about it," Sonny smiled, "you don't look so happy in that photo, for a man getting head." He patted Vinnie on the bicep. "I don't want you doing that anymore, so you're stuck with me now. If you aren't going to tell me what you want me to do, I'm gonna improvise." He reached for Vinnie's T-shirt and scooted it up his chest. It seemed a small thing to fight about, so Vinnie raised his arms and let Sonny slide it over his head.

As Sonny's hand explored his chest tentatively, tickling, making him tense his muscles, Vinnie checked Sonny's face for any indication of disgust. "Sonny, you're really into this, aren't you. You're not just jerking me around, not gonna hang me out to dry tomorrow morning, are you?"

"Shut up, Vinnie," Sonny muttered, and lowered the sheet past Vinnie's groin. He put his hand cautiously on Vinnie's hardening cock, poking out of the briefs, and it leaped into his hold. Vinnie groaned and ran a hand over his eyes to blot out the sight of Sonny leaning down, inspecting him.... Sonny's expression was rapt and expectant. Vinnie went boneless, as he imagined those mobile lips closing over his pleading shaft.... He shook himself. He couldn't imagine Sonny really sucking him off like those punks did for the jockers in the Tombs, with their hungry cornered expressions, begging for protection and willing to pay with anything. Vinnie had been sickened by the service then, and trying to imagine Sonny doing what he'd denied those kids.... Sonny couldn't do it, he couldn't let him do it. He erupted off the matress to grab Sonny by the arms and drag him, surprised and protesting, onto the bed beside him.

When he had pinned Sonny down with his weight and had his full attention, he said softly in his face, "I'm not gonna let you do this to me. If you want it, I'll do you, and you can see if you like men. We'll just call this an experiment, okay?"

Sonny had him by the neck hard; he loosened his hold and licked his lips. "Yeah, okay, Vinnie, if you want to play it like that. If it makes you happy." He looked nervous at losing the initiative.

"You shut up about that, too." Vinnie unwrapped Sonny's fingers from his neck and pressed his hand down into the matress. Then, faced with an armful of nearly naked Sonny Steelgrave, he wondered what his next step was. Maybe, it occurred to him, Sonny wouldn't get hard for him, and they would be able to just laugh this whole incident away... he snaked a hand down Sonny's torso, which stiffened under his touch, little hairs standing up around the tight nipples. No such luck: when he got to Sonny's briefs, his timid probe found a significant erection hiding in the hot folds of cotton and wiry hair. He buried his surprise and his shock at his sense of gratification in Sonny's stomach, licking him around the navel until he squirmed.

"Hey, what are you doing," Sonny protested weakly, grabbing at his hair. Vinnie caught his hands again and held them down. Rather than struggle, Sonny said softly, "Hey, lemme go, Vinnie."

Vinnie looked up at him. "Why?"

Sonny shrugged; his gaze slid away, down to his groin. "I want to touch you too, if you're gonna touch me."

Vinnie conceded, and let go of the hands, which hovered indecisively in the air before settling on Vinnie's shoulders and massaging him rigorously. It felt so non-sexual and non-threatening that Vinnie collapsed with an ecstatic sigh on Sonny's stomach. "Like that?" Sonny sounded triumphant. "Here," he stroked Vinnie's face once, furtively, "get off me and roll over on your stomach, let's do it right."

Vinnie tensed, and then complied. After Sonny had deposited his watch and rings on the bedside table, he straddled Vinnie's ass, a heavy warm pressure that pinned him under the man. Vinnie's unease at his helplessness gradually eroded under Sonny's firm touch, which travelled surely over his shoulders and neck, down to the small of his back. He "hmmmm"ed in appreciation as Sonny's hands worked. It wasn't so different from a massage after a workout; telling himself that helped him to relax and surrender to the intoxicating feeling. He felt torn between a languid sleepiness and the ache of his erection trapped against the matress under his hips. When Sonny shifted off him, he gave in to the urge to rub himself on the bed sensually. But as Sonny's hands descended on his briefs and tried to lower them from behind, he clenched his muscles again. Sonny stopped tugging.

"What's the matter, Vinnie? What are you afraid of? You seem more spooked than I am." Sonny rubbed lightly on the small of his back again, carressing almost absent-mindedly. Callouses from weightlifting made Vinnie's back tingle as they brushed across it.

"Let me up." Vinnie surged against the weight on him, and upended Sonny onto the bed. He pounced before Sonny could get his own back, and held him down again, hands on his shoulders.

"You want it rough, is that it?" Sonny had an unholy gleam in his eye, and was reaching for Vinnie's forearms.

Vinnie let him go, and rolled onto his side, looking at the wall over Sonny's firm, round pectoral. He closed his eyes against men slamming into him from behind. "No, Sonny, I don't like it rough. That's just what I'm afraid of."

"You think I like it that way? I don't treat my women like that."

"Yeah, well, this is different, isn't it. And I'm not your woman," Vinnie snapped.

Sonny rolled to face him, and frowned into his eyes. Vinnie could smell wine and the flavor of Sonny's infrequent cigars on his warm breath. "I didn't say you were. But you're the one with the experience here. I can't help it if you like to hang out in seedy pickup joints, or what happened to you in the pen. Can we just forget about all that garbage and try to have a good time here?"

Vinnie swallowed down on the war between illicit desire and memories in his throat. The hot flush on Sonny's cheeks won the battle for him. He leaned forward hesitantly to touch closed lips to the hollow of Sonny's neck. "Yeah, okay. You're right. Guess I'm not the best guy for you to fool around with."

"You'll do," Sonny said, reaching for him. Vinnie allowed himself to be gathered up into Sonny's oddly reassuring embrace, and their legs entangled. When Sonny leaned down to lower Vinnie's briefs, Vinnie let them go, and Sonny stared with fascination at the swollen red cock standing out of the black curls. A bit embarrassed, Vinnie hurried to slide Sonny's briefs down his narrow hips as well, liberating Sonny's engorged length; Sonny caught his breath and rolled his eyes as the material brushed against the sensitive crown. Sonny darted a sly look from Vinnie's groin to his own. Vinnie verified for himself that his own equipment was heavier and maybe a bit longer, before he swept Sonny---yelping, "oof, hey!"---off his knees and down onto the bed beside him.

The brush of Sonny's leg against Vinnie's cock made Vinnie groan with anticipation. He wrapped Sonny in his arms and rolled over on his back, wrestling the man on top of him. Sonny looked dizzily down into his face, and stretched against him, spreading himself over as much of Vinnie as he could reach. Vinnie's extremities were trembling with hunger; he wanted to eat Sonny alive, but didn't dare reach for his enticing lips. Sonny likewise avoided Vinnie's parted mouth, confirming to his disappointment that kissing was not on, since they were just screwing around; instead Sonny buried his face in Vinnie's neck and bit down on the warm flesh. Vinnie exclaimed into Sonny's shoulder and bit back, eliciting a rumbling chuckle.

Sonny rubbed himself luxuriously on Vinnie's body, his hot breath tickling at Vinnie's neck. Surprising Vinnie with his daring, he pulled back and groped between their sweaty stomachs for Vinnie's cock, moved it in line with his own, and lowered himself down on them with a shuddering exhalation of "Ohhhh God."

Vinnie sighed at the sensation of Sonny's hot hand on him. The press of Sonny's burning shaft alongside his own throbbing cock set his heart pounding painfully. With monumental self-control, Vinnie contained his urge to thrust violently up into Sonny's abdomen and bring himself off. After Sonny had shifted lazily up and down until his eyes shut in abandonment, Vinnie grasped him around the chest and rolled them over again, bringing himself on top. He took a long look in Sonny's pleasure-hazed pupils, while Sonny patiently waited for him to move, to satisfy his want. Swamped by tenderness, Vinnie cringed: this was the man he was supposed to be destroying. As if he were a tuning fork struck some time ago---he couldn't say when---his body pulsated and sang with forbidden feeling now.

He broke Sonny's eye contact, to roll off and sweep his gaze down Sonny's sprawled body. Sonny's tanned legs were spread, to make room for Vinnie's body; his rosy erection lay stiff against his abdomen in a nest of dark brown curls, its head weeping with need. Vinnie scooted down, out of Sonny's reaching arms, to hover over it, watching it quiver with every flux of blood and breath in Sonny's body. It looked hard enough to be painful. Vinnie ran a ginger finger over the length of it, making Sonny gasp, "Fuck, Vinnie!" Sonny's fingers tangled in his hair and kneaded his shoulder, pulling and pushing and demanding wordlessly.

Before surrendering to the desires consuming them both, Vinnie whispered, "Jesus, wonder how many Hail Marys I'll have to say for this." He pictured himself on his knees praying in front of Frank.

"I'm sure your brother can cut you a deal," Sonny said hoarsely. "Now clam up and do me." He twisted to press himself into Vinnie's hand. Vinnie relinquished his last fraction of self-control and ran his hand up the shaft, watching as Sonny arched to drive his cock up against his palm and wrist. He closed his fingers around the wet head, and let Sonny tremble in his hand a moment, before he stroked down the length with his hand. His own cock ached with sympathetic eagerness. When he reached the base, and Sonny's flailing hands had settled on his shoulders again, he groped for the heavy sac between Sonny's legs and rolled its softness in his fingers. His eyes pricked as he marvelled at Sonny's trust in him, and at his own enjoyment in stroking the man somewhere so private. Sonny whispered, "Mmm, that feels good."

Wanting more mutual stimulation, Vinnie carefully drew himself up on top of Sonny again, keeping a hold on Sonny's cock and positioning his own between their hot bodies. Sonny flexed under him, straining for heavier contact, pushing with frantic hands at the small of Vinnie's back. Vinnie started a rhythmic hip movement, using his grasp on Sonny's cock to increase the amount of friction. His own cock, rubbing against his fingers between their bodies, burned with the mounting sensation. Sonny breathed "yeah, come on" in his hair, clutching at his sides to drive him harder and faster. They battled against each other's holds, lungs pumping; Sonny's eyes were slits, his brow was beaded with sweat, his breath was hot in Vinnie's face. In a sudden suspended moment, Vinnie found himself realizing with wonder, _I can make him come_ ; and then Sonny tensed and quivered and exhaled a captive lungful into Vinnie's shoulder. His cock pulsed wetness into Vinnie's hand.

Vinnie held him close until he had stopped trembling and his hands had relaxed their vise-like grip on his back. After taking in a long breath, Sonny looked up into Vinnie's face and smiled bravely. "Come on, Vinnie, let yourself go," he whispered.

Vinnie drew his cramped hand out from between their bodies and with a shuddering sigh, held Sonny to him tightly. He buried his face in Sonny's shoulder and drove himself up and down Sonny's abdomen, hips working, pleasure growing, intensifying, consuming him. Sonny gasped, clutched convulsively at Vinnie's arms around him. Vinnie was too far gone to spare him: his release was in sight, he was delirious with the fever inside his body, the sinful delectable pleasure of kindling himself on another man's hard broad body and summoning flame. For a timeless vibrating minute, Frank and the OCB and the shittiness of betrayals looming and Sonny's business dealings in death were insignificant ash, and Vinnie just loved Sonny for the fire in his heart and how it made him ignite in response. Then Vinnie exploded with ecstasy, shooting searing cum between their scalding bodies.

After a long silent interlude while his racing lungs and heart slowed, and Vinnie wondered how they would be able to look at each other again now, he hauled himself onto his elbow. "Stay," Sonny said hoarsely, catching at his bicep in alarm. Vinnie smiled, glad to see Sonny hadn't decided he hated him after their bodies had gotten what they needed.

"It's my bed, Sonny," he said. "Course I'm staying. I'm just getting the light."

"Oh."

Suddenly shy, Vinnie hesitated a moment before he settled down in the dark, head at Sonny's shoulder, arm over his chest. Sonny cradled his forearm with a loose hand. After listening to Sonny breathe for a bit, Vinnie whispered, "How do you feel about men now?"

There was a long pause; Vinnie thought Sonny had fallen asleep, when he answered, "I don't know about men, but I know about you."

Vinnie was simultaneously relieved and troubled. Sonny  _didn't_  know about him, and he didn't really understand Sonny: they were destined for misery after this. So why did he feel so irrationally happy now? How dare he feel close to this man, when he was morally appalled by him every day in so many ways? There couldn't be anything romantic between them, he told himself; the lies were too crowded now to let in any truths.

Distressed but savoring the intimacy, Vinnie stroked Sonny's hand until he fell asleep.

***************

"Nope, nothing interesting for you this time, Frank," Vinnie said, eyeing the rickety roller coaster that hung like a prehistoric skeleton overhead; he wondered what the safety standards at parks like this were. But it still looked fun.

Frank sighed. "You mean to say you spent the last couple of days doing nothing for Steelgrave whatsoever?"

"Just the usual business meetings and stuff at the Marine."  _Oh, and we slept together._  "Sonny is getting ready to take on Cecil DaMonte, who's been a bit behind on his rent, but nothing's gone down yet."

"Well, well. So this was just a social call." Frank scuffed gravel, grimaced at the ghostly merry-go-round.

"Don't you like these dates, Frank? You used to get all irate when I didn't meet you for days." Vinnie felt heady, despite his misgivings about the new facet to his undercover role; there was effervescence in his veins and throat and mouth, memories surfacing at odd moments like bubbles floating up: the warm weight of Sonny's arm on his when he woke, their mutual embarrassment when they first met one another's eyes that morning, the shy smile that won Sonny's lips.... Though they hadn't mentioned doing it again, or even having done it at all, Sonny's mood hadn't been as off as the day before, when Sonny thought he was meeting guys like Frank here in alleys for blowjobs. And if Sonny hadn't kissed him goodbye at the door, at least he'd punched him on the arm.

"We should've stuck with that alley, if you just wanted to shoot the breeze. Or better yet, we could've found a men's room in a gay bar. At least it would've provided some entertainment."

"Oh, don't be snide, Frank. I get more than enough entertainment at work."

Frank inspected Vinnie closely. Vinnie smiled ingenuously; his eyes were glowing and he was all but bouncing on his toes, emoting job satisfaction. "Steelgrave isn't keeping you entertained personally, is he?"

Vinnie picked up a pebble and tossed it against a hotdog stand. "What if he is? He's good to his friends."

"Is he good to you, Vince?"

Bubbles wafting up: "Yeah," Vinnie said with a grin, "great."

"I'm real sorry to hear that, pal."

Frank did sound sorry, for once.


End file.
